Poor tiny little moth prince, taken away by humans. He’s so cute and makes such wonderful noises when they play with him. They’re so reluctant to put him back in his little jar when he keeps reacting so sweetly to their touches. >:3c


I’m honestly the most predictable fuck alive.

warnings: heat cycles, micro, frottage, voyeurism, dirty talk, kidnapping (but the sex is consensual)
pairings: genyatta, mcyatta, ft. gabe

“Hands off, Jesse.”

The voice, deep and rumbling, eases him awake. Zenyatta blinks, fur ruffling as he shifts, but when he settles again, his fur doesn’t.

Zenyatta freezes.

“I ain’t gonna hurt him.”

He feels slow, like he’s trapped in muck, his mind soft like a sip of mead too many. Something huge and warm drags down his chest, carding through his fur, a repetitive, even motion that has him humming.